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Chapter 12: Praise Gaia II
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Chapter 14: A Dark World
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... chest, sour and acidic. It wasn’t a scream. It was a statement. One too familiar, too worn in its shape—like a phrase carved into a wall over years.
"I don’t like it... I don’t care about these people... but I don’t like how he treats me in front of them."
It burned. Quietly. But it burned.
The shame of being humbled in front of those gazes—some amused, others disinterested, all bearing witness—was a rot that clawed at his pride. His ego, already brittle, refused to acce ...
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